


Matters of Inferior Birth

by PvtSnail



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: F/F, Slow Burn, fluff--eventually, follows pnp story line, i will not rest until this is finished, pride and prejudice au, slight angst, time period 1800s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27635590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PvtSnail/pseuds/PvtSnail
Summary: A retelling of Pride and Prejudice, but make it Raylla
Relationships: Izadora/Anacostia Quartermaine, Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 26
Kudos: 66





	1. A New Residency in Madea

**Author's Note:**

> I'm goin off the 2005 script, some slight variations and added scenes to fit our girls a little better :) 
> 
> Don't own the story or the characters, just wanted to be able to read our girls in the story of P&P

Raelle walked through the fields of Circe, the grass of the meadow standing proudly tall as she made her way to her home. Her cream trapper shirt tucked safely into brown trousers, sleeves wildly unbuttoned and carelessly rolled up to her elbows. 

She smiled at the sight of her home as she passed through the stone archway, towards the back where she began to overhear Ms. Anacostia and Ms. Izadora feverishly discusses something in the window of their library. 

Their discussion was muffled by the glass panes of the window, but Raelle cocked her head curiously as Izadora excitedly exclaimed a new residence was being taken in Medea. Curiosity peaked and Raelle entered through the back, shuffling through the halls towards the library, rolling her eyes at the sight of her sisters eagerly standing at the closed door way.

Tally stood the closest, ear pressed right against the old worn oak. Abigail held a knowing smile on her face, leaning her arm against the casing. Glory was pressed against Tally, desperately trying to muffle her giggles of glee and quite considerably failing to do so. 

Raelle’s eyes widen and she rushes over on deft feet, boots barely making a creak in the floorboards as she widened her eyes, tugging playfully at Tally’s hair. 

“Tal, Abs, what has gotten into you-”

“Never mind your fretting and worry sister, there’s more important things to hear, now shush!” Tally whispered, pressing her ear impossibly closer to the wood. It was a miracle that the girl wouldn’t get a splinter with how close she was pressed against the door.

Raelle looked towards Glory, finding their cousin just as entranced with the conversation as Tally. With an exasperated sigh she glanced over at Abigail, the tallest of them all who bit at her lip at the expression of glee on the other girl’s faces. 

“Mr. Gerit arrived from the north, single, five thousand a year.” Abigail remarked, making sure to fill Raelle in on the happenings behind the door. “Not that you’d find him to your tastes.” Abigail finished with a wink, Raelle rolled her eyes, moving in closer to take her spot in listening at the door.

As the girls pressed their ears to the door, each eager to hear the tantalizing conversation beyond the barrier of hollowed wood Izadora paced around a desk with papers and quills strewn about it, a note with a broken seal gripped tightly in her hand as she reread the contents of the dry ink over and over again, unable to contain excitement at the prospects hidden within. 

“It’s a chance for the girls!” Izadora remarked, a gruff snort resounded from Anacostia, seated at the large table, books strewn about in front of her covering the expanse of the old piece of furniture. 

“And just how can this affect them?” Anacostia rested her fingertips against a tired forehead, leaning her weight on her right elbow as she fingered a page in between her index finger and thumb.

She’d been rereading the same piece of the passage, same sentence over and over again since the squeal of her partner resounded out from the kitchen, the rush of her shoes against the floorboards creaking in her wake before a door whipped open and shut just as fast as it did. 

It was no matter that a young man would move so close to their dwelling, but the way in which his presence seemed to affect her wife drew her brows up in curiosity, looking to see just what it was that Izadora could see in which she couldn’t view from such news. It wasn’t as though the gentlemen would waste his time in their company, no they’d be there for the summer and leave just when the first hint of winter would come. 

“Dearest, how can you be so daft? It’s truth that he may, and must marry one!” Anacostia feigned further obliviousness. Of course the young boy would cause this sort of trouble, and no doubt, if by the poor muffling of giggles on the other side of the door the trouble was only just beginning for her. 

Damn the youth, she’d be aged prematurely by her girls. 

“Ah, so that is the design of his for settling so close.” With that Anacostia stood to take her leave, of the room, and the conversation. There was nothing more to be discussed, and as she opened the door, ignoring the fretting of Izadora following closely behind, she rolled her eyes as her daughters stumbled back, all save for Raelle, each holding a slight giddy face to don their features. 

“Good heavens.” Anacostia murmured under her breath, she pushed past her way, a terrible headache already forming at the top of her head as Tally’s gleeful giggle sounded through the home. 

She stopped dead in her tracks, all too poorly aware of the girls flocking behind her. Tally’s surprisingly strong grip attached to her arm, tugging Anacostia closer to the red head. A terrifyingly serious look etched onto her face. Raelle would call it crazy eyes, Abigail would suggest they send her away to school for manners, while Glory would yell out it was nothing more than a face of hopeful young love. 

“Please, you and Iz must visit him at once!” Tally urged, eyes going impossibly wider. Anacostia fixed her with an impatient look, throwing the young and all too hyper girl’s arms off of her. 

She continued her journey towards their drawing room, their questions and demands bouncing off the strong walls of their home. The heat of summer and their bodies all in one room making a sweat start to form at the back of her neck and the beginnings of her forehead. She let out a sigh, her face, once passive and untelling let out a hint of a smile as she took her seat. 

Tally practically threw herself to the floor, arm tightly interlocked with Glory’s. Abigail and Raelle stood close, both respectively cool, Abigail only mildly interested in the potential before them. 

“There is no need for me to bother their household twice.” Anacostia commented, eyes landing squarely on Izadora’s as they smiled at each other against the squeals. 

Anacostia had seen the party arrive into town just days prior, and introduced herself on behalf of her family.

“Is he handsome?” Tally asked, unaware of the enchanted trance her moms had entered, pulling at Anacostia’s shirt, impatient for proper answers.

“He’s sure to be handsome.” Abigail remarked, lifting Tally off from the floor, holding her cheek in hand with a smile.

“Five thousand a year? Would not matter if he had warts.” Raelle remarked earning a giggle from Tally and a look from Abigail.

“Is miss Raelle hinting she’d forego her preferences for money?” Abigail’s eyebrow quirked up, earning a roll of eyes from the short blonde and a quick playful punch to her shoulder. 

“We’ll consent to his marrying of whichever girl he chooses.” Izadora spoke first, breaking from the lull of the trance with her love.

“Warts and all.” Anacostia jumped in, winking at Raelle. 

A gleeful cheer erupted from the family, squeals of pure joy bouncing off the wall and back into the ears of them all. Acting as fuel of terror to Anacostia’s headache and more of a need for the girls to express their delight. 

“He’ll come to the ball tomorrow?” Glory asked, their cousin shaking with just as much intensity as Tally. Perhaps the hyperness of the redhead transfers to whomever she touches. 

“I believe so.” Anacostia winked, watching as the crowd of girls shrieked once again, desperately crawling to leave the room, even managing to sweep up Abigail in the excitement, the prospect of landing a husband of high standing enough to elicit a more than curious response from the tall brunette. 

Raelle allowed herself to be tugged along, laughing at the pure joy of each girl running to their dressers, offering to help the other with various pieces of their dresses they’d no doubt spend the rest of their day working on. 

By evening the house still had each candle lit, fingers poked by needles as the girls worked on their adjustments, even Raelle made sure that her regency collared shirt with ruffles down the front was clean enough for helping ensure that their family made a long lasting and well first impression. 


	2. Miserable she may be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> but poor? She most certainly is not

The music was lively, loud, in a constant battle to one up the plain and interesting conversations of the ears that the sounds reverberated through, bouncing into one ear and out the other, all against the walls, following a winding trail into one of Raelle’s. 

She smiled against the orchestra, the precision of each pluck of strings gathering a more than appreciative feeling of warmth within not only her temporary body but that of her soul. Her teeth bared out in a wide grin at the energy the room had created. Light, carefree, and open to possibility. Her sisters all desperately fretting, anxiety and nerves just another jumble, and discreet dance happening within the ballroom. 

Raelle sat close to Tally, Abigail on the redhead’s other side as she held their hands tightly, the whites of her knuckles blocking all the red warmth of her blood from flowing through her fingers. Abigail glanced around the room with vague interest, no one quite meeting to her tastes. 

With her free hand Raelle smoothed out the front of her tailcoat. Sticking two of her fingers between her collar to let out a shaky breath. 

She wasn’t the only one nervous.

Yet her eyes glazed over towards Tally, who’s flitted across the dancefloor, even though she knew the man they’d all been waiting for had yet to arrive she still couldn’t help herself from checking every five seconds. Not that she even knew what the man looked like, only Abigail having a vague sense of what his features were, dutifully given such knowledge by Anacostia. 

“If every man in this room does not end the evening in love with you, then I am no judge of beauty.” Raelle smiled, holding Tally’s gaze tightly to her own. Tally let a smile, truly a real smile, grace her face, a breath of relief and appreciation flashing quickly on her features.

“Or men.” Abigail began, widening her eyes before continuing. “I’ve found they’re far too easy to judge. Especially High Atlantics.” She quipped, before turning her attention back to the floor, doing a check over once again in case she missed anyone who she might find some fancying towards.

Tally rolled her eyes at Abigail, tugging at the sleeve of her dress to garner her attention. Raelle watching with a bemused smile at Tally’s disbelief. 

“They're not all bad.” Tally tried, and it was Raelle’s turn to scoff at the innocence of their sister. 

“All humorless poppycocks in my thankfully limited experience. That’s why they’re rich, lest they wouldn’t find a wife at all.” Raelle remarked. Tally whipped her head to her shorter sister, a knowing look in her eyes that dug deep into the window of Raelle’s soul.

“Just wait Ms. Collar. One of these days someone will catch your eye, and you’ll have to learn to watch your tongue.” Tally’s fiery expression was met with a Raelle’s barbaric expression, tongue sticking out and all, hitting the other girl’s thigh with her knee. 

Raelle began to put words to her expression, only for herself to stop as she opened her mouth, Tally and Abigail’s face quickly directed towards the entrance of the ballroom. It was then the blonde noticed the room had quiet, both music and conversation alike ending their battle, both no match for the newcomer’s entrance.

At the front of the room stood a party of three. A man with brown hair, bangs swept to the side standing proudly on one side, another on the right. Both men sandwiching a rather short woman in a midnight purple suit, ruffled collar reaching all the way up framing her neck, like a twilight forest come to life. 

Raelle found the woman meet her eye, and like a fish she was caught, entranced by the ethereal, otherworldly beauty the woman possessed from just afar. Her hair a dark brown, contrasting against the brightness of the room. Even with a sour face she almost seemed to scream attention of the room with her aura. 

Mrs. Wick rushed down the parted sea of guests, poor and well off alike as the woman went to greet the new arrivals, marching them through, only stopping at whichever guests she deemed notable. 

Not among that crowd was Raelle or her sisters, but still, like well trained daughters, at least in Abigail and Tally’s case, they sized the men up before them, Raelle still unable to take her eyes off the sad song protruding from the woman in the middle. 

“Where’s our peacock?” Tally breathed, Abigail straightened, lifting her head slightly.

“On the right, and the left is his brother, Mr. Byron if I heard the rumors from earlier this night correctly.” Abigail answered, Raelle finally found it within her to open her mouth, eyes still not allowed to move from the woman.

“And the woman with the quizzical brow?” Abigail gave her an almost downright terrifyingly knowing smile as she licked her lips.

“That would be, I believe their good friend Ms. Scylla Ramshorn.” 

“She looks miserable, poor soul.” Tally remarked, frowning.

They stopped their discussion as the party passed them in the line. Scylla making eye contact once again with Raelle, her face neutral, steady, and yet far too quick in removing itself from looking over the blonde. As though she would not allow herself to look at the woman. 

Raelle swallowed, only finding her breath returning once the party had passed and was well enough out of earshot. 

“Miserable she might be, but poor she is most certainly not.” Abigail gleamed, making a point to reach over and nudge Raelle’s shoulder. The blonde finally looking at her sisters after having looked like a lost puppy, trying to find it’s owner. 

“Oh do tell me!” Tally exclaimed and Abigail laid a hand on her shoulder to steady the hyper woman.

“10,000… a year.” 

From somewhere in a corner of the room Izadora perked up, she moved swiftly on her feet, minding the pairs of dancers as the songs resumed, once again finding their battle against conversations had and to be had. 

She rounded up, finding her daughters and together they linked arms after her insisting of being introduced to the elite arrivals. Anacostia stood, limiting her conversation but nodding along when she must, watching her wife drag their girls across the room with a slight smirk finding its way to her face. 

All lined up, the girls stood with anticipation in front of the three high atlantics. Mrs. Wick eagerly chatting their ear off about the ball, the amount of people there and what such lively and warm music was playing throughout the night. 

As the girls settled in their places Raelle felt a pair of eyes burning onto her skin. She looked up, catching the eye of Scylla. And by God if she was a sight to see from far away, nothing would ever compare to the beauty of her likeness up close. 

Her eyes held a multitude of seas in them, the world’s oceans would never even come close to the blues of hers. Her jaw was sharp, and Raelle could only guess her mind would take after it. She forced herself to breathe in, thankful for the hard grip of Tally’s hand in hers. She squeezed back, forcing her gaze to turn onto Mrs. Wick.

“Oh of course, Mrs. L’amara-Quartermaine, and her daughters Ms. Abigail Bellweather, Ms. Tally Craven, and Ms. Raelle Collar.” The ladies nodded as their names were mentioned, Scylla’s face betrayed a hint of her own subtle curiosity, and while Gerit stared like a man without water at Tally, Byron took it upon himself to answer for all of them.

“A party of household names I see, while my dearest brother has a hard time finding his words I do believe I speak for us both when I say we are delighted to make your acquaintance.” He offered a wide smile and Izadora kindly returned it.

“Yes, my beloved wife and I find we lack the tools to produce our own heirs, these three girls needed a home, and so they have been our daughters since.” Byron widened his smile at that. 

“What joy, I too share in that aspect, my father was lost at war, the Buttonwood’s took me in when I was quite young.” An air of relaxation spread through the girls, each finding the ability to breathe at that moment, a kinship surrounding the group.

It was silent for a few seconds, each individual taking the other in. Scylla allowed her eyes to flash over the family briefly, yet it seemed her eyes would continue to only meet Raelle’s. 

“May I introduce Ms. Scylla Ramshorn, of Labour in Pain.” Scylla lowered her head briefly, keeping her face as neutral as humanly possibly, if that was even a true possible thing one could do for such a long time. Raelle met her eyes, giving a slight smile, taking it back just as quickly when the woman did not return it.

Perhaps only a few moments later, Raelle found herself locked in conversation with Tally, Gerit, Bryon and a terribly bored Scylla. She seemed to only stand there as a means of getting out of potential conversations with any other soul who might dare to try to speak to her. Her face remained as cool and neutral as ever, barely taking a slight interest in the conversation.

Tally made small talk, and Gerit responded to her shy face with his own shy face. The seed of love and romance planting around them making Raelle undoubtedly sick, but also proud and hopeful for her sister. 

“The library at Madea I heard is one of the finest.” Raelle found herself speaking, and Scylla seemed to flick her attention to the blonde, listening in closely. Gerit took a steadying breath, nodding his head.

“Yes, I find I’m guilty from it. I’m not the best reader, being outdoors is- well not that you can’t read out-” He tries to save himself but it was then that Scylla seemed to finally enter the conversation.

“Not that he can’t read outside, but there seems to always be so many other things to do.” She gave him a glance, and Gerit smiled thankfully at her. 

“Tell me Ms. Ramshorn, would you be found in the library of Madea or outdoors?” Raelle cocked her head with her question, and Scylla seemed to stare heat into her soul. 

It was quiet a moment, and Raelle found herself filling with a sense of dread as such a long wait for an answer. Was she not good enough for conversation? Were women in coats and buttoned shirts not to her taste? Or was it women not in her taste at all?

“I find the company of a good book to be much more preferred than that of a crowded ballroom.” Raelle smiled politely, finding the woman too entirely hard to read, but nodded in turn with her approval of the answer. 

“I hear you’re not open for all markets?” Byron smirked out, and Raelle looked taken aback.

“Pardon?” He laughed at her look of shock, and a smile of kinship splayed out onto his features once again.

“Do not fret, I merely state that you may find a few allies here. I find women to be, not my preferred, taste.” He winked and Raelle allowed herself to smile giving him a thankful look glancing quickly at Scylla’s raised brow of interest.

A dance ended and those who engaged either left or stayed with their partners, gaps opened in the line, just desperately waiting to be filled. Gerit turned to Tally, innocence and childlike wonder in his eyes as he smiled brightly at her.

“May I have the honour?” Tally nodded quickly, grabbing onto his arm as he led her towards an open space.

Raelle watched the pair practically sprint away to the dancefloor, taking their places as the song began once more and their smiles flung around each other, both laughing in tandem with a strum, pluck, and whine of each string.

With a pounding joy Raelle turned to look at Scylla who stayed terribly still, glancing at Gerit before looking up at the architecture of the room. Raelle swallowed thickly, face lit bright as she went to speak.

“Do you dance Ms. Ramshorn?” Scylla looked at her, taking a deep breath resulting in an almost annoyed sigh. 

“Not if I can help it.” She mused. 

With a frown Raelle nodded her leave to Byron, turning away from too dreadful of silence, making her way across the room, catching a smile to fall on her face as she watched Tally gleefully laugh at a turn and the light touch of Gerit holding her hand. Tally appearing quite smitten to Gerit’s calm nerves. 


	3. Perfectly Tolerable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ball Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooooo GLAD to see you guys like this! 
> 
> I have one more chapter finished and ready to go after this so I'll get right to working on adapting more chapters over!!!   
> I won't hold you from the story any longer now, Enjoy lovelies!

As the hours regrettably passed by almost all too fast, and the night took its full grip of the ball, it’s coldness ensuing the sea of people in attendance to remain indoors before they hope to catch a cold, Scylla and Gerit began to walk through a hall, both lost in their own worlds of thoughts and wonders. 

Scylla was itching to leave, having her fill of involving herself in social decorum, it being quite unhelpful that Byron was insistent on drinking as much as he could and partaking in the dances, as well as Gerit. The boy acted like a moth dancing around one source of light the entire night, and Scylla would’ve scolded him if it weren’t for the pure happiness and carefreeness that expressed itself on his normally rather saddened face. 

“My word I’ve never seen so many pretty girls in my life.” Gerit remarked, running a hand through his hair, tousling it slightly as he gazed around at all the women. Like they were in a famer’s market and he was trying to find just the right apple, no blemishes, perfectly red and plump, ripe and ready for the taking. 

“You were dancing with the only handsome girl in the room.” Scylla remarked with disinterest as they came to a stop in the center of the room. Gerit lit up like a christmas tree, his face bright at the thought of the woman he’d spent almost the entire night with. Almost forgetting he was also supposed to mingle with the other, choices, for his line. 

“Oh, she is the most beautiful creature I ever dare beheld, though her sister, Raelle, she is very agreeable.” Scylla pretended not to notice his glance her way, the invitation and implications hidden within it. 

Unbeknownst to the pair remarking on the beauty of the women in their company, Abigail and Raelle stood behind a pillar in the room, overhearing the entire conversation. Raelle and Abigail alike both let out a giant smile knowing Gerit had taken a liking to their sister. No doubt Izadora would be thrilled, and Tally would most certainly not know at all what to do with herself once she heard the news.

Raelle did not dwell on the note of her beauty, but she took an interest in the way Scylla’s brow quirked, a different kind of seriousness displaying across her features at the comment. She waited with baited breath for what the miserable woman might say on the topic of her.

“Perfectly tolerable, I dare say, but not handsome enough to tempt me.” 

Raelle let her smile drop, uncaring to hear the rest of their conversation before Gerit ran off, know doubt to find the handsomest girl there. Abigail glared daggers into Scylla’s back, even if she did not know it, she hoped that a feeling of dread would fill the woman and she’d be cursed with weeks of unrest, no months. Months of unrest. 

Abigail laid a hand on Raelle’s shoulder, gripping tightly to garner the shorter girl’s attention as she leaned down closer to speak to her. A gentle smile on her face as she took in the obvious disappointment that Raelle seemed to, and failed at, covering up.

“Count your blessings Rae, if she found you handsome you’d have to talk to her.”

Raelle felt a mischievous smile quickly take control of her face as she grinned devilishly back at her sister. A laugh echoing off her lips as she allowed herself to no longer concern herself with thoughts of a miserable woman, and although she may not be poor, she was still a fool in her own right. 

“Precisely. I would not dance with her for all of labour in pain, let alone the miserable half.” Raelle winked, and Abigail smiled as well, still seeing the way Raelle was stung, but she wore the comment like armour, and Abigail punched her shoulder playfully, dragging her away from the terribly soured room and back towards the ballroom where they could watch Tally have the time of her life, being supportive as ever from the sidelines. 

As the night carried on Raelle found herself once more in conversation with Scylla present. Unable to seem to shake the glooming presence that dominated the mood of the night. 

Gerit smiled at Tally brightly, her returning it just as evenly, Izadora next to Raelle holding onto Tally’s arm, keeping the girl close, perhaps acting as her rock in such moments of uncontainable glee.

“Your friend, Miss Glory, she is a very amusing young woman.” said Gerit, his smile extending to his ears as he spoke to Tally. The redhead returned his expression. 

“Yes! I do adore her.” Tally spoke softly, eyes flitting over to where Glory was, dancing in the room, eyes full of mirth as she twirled about.

“It is a pity she’s not more handsome.” Izadora spoke plainly and Raelle whipped her head at the woman. This was new even for her, must the company of the rich truly squander a woman’s reputation and humbleness that much? She did not think Izadora would stoop so low to simply try and preen the feathers that she did not have.

“Mama!” Raelle argued, but Izadora waved her off.

“Of course, Raelle would regret if she ever claimed a woman as plain. Though Tally is known to be quite the beauty of the county.” 

Tally’s eyes widened, heat rising to the tips of her ears, Scylla watched on with a bored expression, and Raelle was desperately trying to find a way to salvage such poor conversation.

“Mom please-”

“When she was fifteen a gentleman had so much love towards her, I was well sure he would make an offer. Although, he did write her some beautiful verses.” 

“And that put paid to it. I do wonder, who first discovered the power of poetry in driving away love?” Raelle jumped in, giving a quick and unnoticeable glare to Izadora before letting a smile rest on her face.

“I thought that, poetry was the food of love.” The conversation went quiet, no individual daring to speak out as Scylla’s voice bounced through their ears. Raelle felt conflicted in the way that such a proud and arrogant woman’s voice could make a low heat settle in her stomach.

“Spark love it may. But if only a vague inclination then I am convinced that one poor sonnet will only kill it stone dead.” Her eyes met Scylla’s head on, staring into wicked blues watching as her brows knitted together in deep thought, and there was something else apparent on her face. Interest?

“What do you recommend then, to encourage affection?” Scylla’s voice was husky, and it held genuine curiosity in it, as though she’d finally found a match, someone at her level to engage in such deep and life answering discussions.

Raelle decided to let Scylla wait, taking her own time in thinking of her response even though she’d already known exactly what she’d say. Instead, she held onto the anticipation that was surely building within the dark haired beauty before her, and then with a twitch of her lip, on the cusp of a smirk she responded.

“Dancing. Even if ones partner is barely tolerable.” At that she let herself smirk into quite a devilish grin. 

Scylla’s eyes widened, a different emotion on her face besides the normal blankness being quite unusual and almost alarming in it’s own right. She had not realized Raelle might’ve heard her speak on the matter of herself. Nor did she expect the girl to present her response in that way. A heat rose to her cheeks, the tips of her ears, and the hair on the back of her neck stood as a quick fear filled through her. 

Raelle let her smile widen before turning around walking through the pairs of dancing and the forever continuing battle between music and spoken word as she made her way outside, preferring the company of the cold for it was far warmer than that of Scylla’s presence and stare from the night. 

Late into the evening, the moon past the middle of the sky, Raelle, Tally, and Abigail all giggled under covers as they recounted their evening of adrenaline. Even Raelle had found some pleasantry in the ordeal, her win against Scylla giving her a boost in both ego and confidence.

“He’s just what a young man must be, sensible, good humored.” Tally sighed, her head resting pliantly against the pillow, clutching her arms to her shoulders as her head felt like in a day dream.

“Handsome-” Abigail started.

“Conveniently rich.” Raelle finished, both her and Abigail broke into another fit of laughter at Tally insistent whine of disapproval. 

“You both know I do not believe marriage should be driven by money.” Abigail snorted and Raelle couldn’t help but laugh aloud.

“While our dearest sister may disapprove I find I agree. Only the deepest of love will persuade me, which is why I’ll be an old maid.” 

It was silent for a moment. Nothing but the sound of crickets chirping and the howl of the wind outside their window echoed throughout the room. In time with their rise and fall of chests, Abigail fell asleep first, always the first one to go and the first one to wake. 

Raelle found herself staring up at the ceiling, it’s wooden planks long memorized from all the times she’d spent looking at it when it became all too clear that sleeping would not be in the cards for her tonight. Tally slowly slid above the covers, turning to face Raelle, mindful of their sleeping sister behind her.

“Do you really believe he liked me Rae?” Her voice held a quiver, shaky and unrooted. Raelle rolled over onto her side, seeing the uncertain gaze Tally bestowed her with. 

“Tal, he danced with you most of the night, and then stared at you for the rest. Though you’ve liked many a stupider persons.” Raelle spoke, a smile slowly entering as the words left and danced along the vibrations of the air.

“Rae!” Tally whisper shrieked.

“What? You’re too apt to like people in general, and of course all the world is good and agreeable in your eyes.” Raelle groaned out.

“Not his friend. I still can’t believe what she said about you.” 

Earlier in the night Abigail and Raelle recounted their story to the other sister after hearing all about how she danced the night away with Prince Charming and how the slightest touch of his hand against hers during the dance was more grounding than quite literally anything else she’s felt in the world. Oh and of course how she was desperately hoping to spend more time with the young man.

  
  


“Ms. Scylla? I’d forgive her vanity easily if she’d not wounded mine. But it’s no matter, we’ll more than likely never speak again.” Raelle gave a softer smile, trying her best to reassure her sister that she was fine, that the words painted onto her did not hurt as much as it had in the moment.

For Raelle had found that Scylla lied when she remarked on Tally being the most handsome in the room. As much as she did find an admiration in all of her sister’s pure and raw beauty, Scylla did indeed lie. For she forgot that she was also in that room, and Raelle did believe that Scylla was the most handsome girl she’d ever laid eyes on in her life. ‘Twas such a shame that such a woman could seem to be so miserable and filled with too much ignorant pride. 

Raelle allowed her eyes to close, finally giving into the battle of wanting to watch the stars outside the window, counting each one and imagining it was a far away world, versus the tired droop and heavy weight of her lids. Allowing herself to have a hopeful, and deep rest, perhaps a sleep that would be enough for her to forget that Ms. Scylla Ramshorn was one she ever met.


	4. She'll Go On Horseback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The remarkable power of Izadora's matchmaking abilities

The next morning Raelle poked and prodded at her plate, messing with the eggs as she listened to Izadora’s and Tally’s lively recount of the ball. Abigail gave an amused grin towards Anacostia as the woman in turn laughed at Abigail’s mimicry of Tally’s facial expressions. The room filled with a pleasant warmth as the family filled their bellies. 

Raelle ate a forkful of eggs as one of the maids entered the dining room, a letter in her hands as she looked towards Izadora and Anacostia alike, garnering the entire room’s attention. Raelle looked on with curious eyes, fork still in her mouth, teeth grinding gently against the metal. 

“A letter, it’s been addressed to Miss Craven. From Madea.” Eyebrows around the table shot upwards, Raelle placed her fork down watching as Tally’s hand reached out to hold the letter, hands shaky and unsure, Abigail and Tally’s supportive looks all the motivation she needed to continue onwards.

Terrified eyes opened the letter, and the table was once more deathly quiet, not even the sound of forks scraping against a plate could be heard as every kept still, gazes burned onto the redhead, watching her eyes shift from terror to disbelief.

“It's from Byron.” A thrilled laugh escaped Izadora’s throat as a storm of chaos was sure to be endured in just moments within the room. 

“He invited me to dine with him, his brother will be dining out.” Tally’s shock came with another squeal of joy. A chair, or two? Skirted backwards, breakfast soon became long forgotten as the girls circled around their sister, a hand on each of her shoulders as they read over her, unbelieving of what their eyes witnessed.

“Iza! The carriage? For Tally?” Izadora reached over, holding the letter in her hands as she read over the contents of the penmanship. 

It was a glorious moment, who would've thought that an orphan, of no great rank or status would manage to catch the eye of a man not only of notable birth, but also brought five thousand a year? All Tally would have to do is play herself right into his hands and wait for the question to pop.

If she managed to secure this then the rest of them might just be saved from ever having to endure a marriage for wealth, they might be able to enjoy a marriage of love, or not even marriage at all. 

Izadora’s eyes grew wide, and she looked out the window briefly, making eye contact with Anacostia. The woman nodded her head, and Izadora took a steadying breath, folding up the letter as if that was the end of it.

“No, she’ll go on horseback.” Izadora concluded, flashing a wink towards Anacostia who only rolled her eyes in response.

“Horseback!?” Their three girls shouted at once.

The countryside was soon plagued with the sound of thunder rumbling throughout the sky, inching closer and closer to their estate, and it’s dark grey ominous clouds spread out over the expanse of the world, casting it into a dark shadow. 

Raelle quickly pulled clothes down from a line, the rain beginning to hit by the buckets pouring out of the sky rapidly. She had half the mind to look out towards where Tally had taken off on one of their spare horses. With a quickness, Raelle bolted to the front door of the home, rushing in and shaking her hair at the entrance as she passed by her mothers. 

“Now she will have to stay the night, as I predicted.” Izadora commented, Raelle and Anacostia both lifted a brow, Anacostia with subtle admiration, and Raelle with worry.

“Your matchmaking skills are becoming positively occult.” Anacostia muttered, pressing a small kiss to her wife’s neck, moving to rub a steadying hand on her back before turning to exit the room.

“Let’s hope she doesn’t catch her death because of such skills.” Raelle murmured, catching Izadora’s glare in the process.

Tally stood at the front door of the Madea estate, hands freezing from the cold and nose already beginning to drip with sickness. She rapped her knuckles against the wood of the door, smoothing out her riding dress and pulling her hat to cover her ears a little more so that they might be protected from the harsh elements. 

Cursed Izadora making her ride through such extremes. The door opened and a servant flinched as her nose twitched and a tickling sensation in her nostrils forced out a sneeze. God above only Tally would catch a cold in the most inopportune times. 

She soon found herself guided to a bed, a more than concerned Gerit fawning over every little detail or wish of her desires that she might need in order to get over her ailment. Tally smiled politely at his fretting, letting herself be taken care of by his staff and of course Byron insisted they rescheduled their dining so that they might speak when in better health. 

“ _ Do not be alarmed excepting a sore throat, fever, and a headache there is nothing wrong with me.”  _ Abigail read aloud, holding a letter with Tally’s scratchy penmanship. 

“Hope you’re satisfied Iza.” Raelle muttered loud enough for the house to hear, Anacostia snorted.

“If she does die then it will be comforting to know it was all in pursuit of Mr. Gerit.” Anacostia’s sarcasm jumped around the walls of the home, a chuckle leaving her throat as Izadora straightened at the accusation.

“Oh you lot are all fools, people don’t die of colds.” 

Raelle rolled her eyes, already finding herself running towards their shared room to put on a fresh white shirt and beige trousers, tucking the pant legs into her boots before seeing Abigail at the doorway to their room. 

“Will you come with me?” Raelle asked, running a hand through her hair, free from its normal bonds of braids. She frowned as Abigail declined the offer with a shake of her head.

“One of us should stay to keep Glory company, Tally would appreciate it in her absence.” Abigail walked over, and helped tuck one part of her shirt to make sure it would be presentable before looking at her once again with a smile. “Have an excellent walk.” 

Without so much as a goodbye Raelle exited the home, finding the right direction in which to make it towards where she knew the Madea estate would be. The meadow was muddy from the days of rain, her boots and ends of her trousers immediately getting caked with it, though she didn’t find it in herself to mind that dirt at all. 

The wonderful sights of the country would be more than enough compensation from nature to make up for ruining her clothes. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter unfortunately, have to set up a bit of the tEnsIoN
> 
> Which you'll be glad to hear, that in the next two chapters or so, there is a REMARKABLE amount of tension ;))
> 
> And since it's the holidays expect a double update on thanksgiving <3


	5. A New Guest in Madea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raelle visits Madea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...This is where the fun begins ;)

Scylla sat, Byron at the other end of the table as they ate their breakfast, donning a purple vest, white shirt tucked into dark trousers. He holds a letter in his right hand, fork in his left as he makes curious sounds while entranced by the contents of the letter. Scylla keeps her displeasure of his rather loudness at the table to herself, opting to look over a newspaper as she takes a bite of her toast.

The crumbs fell onto her black trousers, a red silk shirt tucked into her waistline, fashioned together with a deep brown vest beholding golden buttons and a long just barely lighter brown overcoat. She wiped at the crumbs carelessly, lifting her hands up to her collar to allow herself a bit of room to breathe more freely, resuming her chewing.

They stayed quiet, Scylla’s eyebrows ticking as footsteps outside of the room sounded loudly, two pairs of feet if she could hear correctly. Shortly a footman entered, giving a quick bow before speaking.

“Miss Raelle Collar.” The footman announced disapprovingly, a touch of annoyance donning him before he turned away to allow the woman to enter the space. 

Byron went to look at Scylla to share a quick glance but the act was useless, for the moment Raelle stepped into the room, unsure, timid and face flushed Scylla’s gaze had fallen onto her. 

She was a sight that caused a swarm within her own stomach. Raelle’s hair was winded, free of braids or bands, her trousers and boots plated with a coat of dried mud, face with a hint of pink from exertion, a tiny bead of sweat drippings down.

Scylla could not help but stand from her seat, hand gripping tightly on the table to steady herself from such a quick action. Byron remained seated, looking on with an amused expression at the reaction his companion seemed to be unable to withhold from.

Raelle met Scylla’s eyes the moment she entered the room, the rush of all her emotions from the ball coming back into her head at first glance towards the woman. She shyly took in the room, it’s marbles and riches quite daunting compared to the likes that she was rather used to. Remembering herself Raelle bowed slightly in front of the two individuals, mindful of her place within their home.

“Goodness Miss Raelle, have you walked here?” Byron asked, and Raelle tore her eyes away from Scylla, nodding before finding words to follow her actions.

“I have. I’m sorry I believe I’m rather gross-”

“No you’re not.” Scylla spoke her hand gripping the table accidentally knocking over a cup. The clang sounded out and with a muffled curse Scylla removed her eyes from Raelle, grabbing a napkin as a servant ran in to clean the mess.

With a new embarrassed air Scylla quickly dusted herself off, her eyes finding Raelle’s from across the room once again. She wanted to scowl at the blonde, how dare she lie to her? She looked rather ravishing even despite the lack or care of her own presentation. 

Raelle and Scylla stared at each other, either one at a loss for words before Raelle seemed to finally remember as to why it was she was there in the first place. Wetting her lips with her tongue, noting the way that seemed to capture Scylla’s gaze even more hotly than before she spoke before the pair.

“My sister?” 

“Upstairs. Please show Miss Collar the way.” Scylla ordered, their footman bowed standing outside the door, awaiting for when Raelle would turn and leave. 

The two women stared at each other with a curiosity in their eyes, each one seeming to memorize the other before Raelle bowed quickly, making with haste to leave the room. 

Byron suppressed a chuckle as Scylla slowly slid back into her seat, breakfast long forgotten, only the knowledge of a blonde just moments away from her, in the same space as she was, being the only thing on her mind. 

“Goddess, her trousers were six inches deep in mud.” Byron spoke, ignoring Scylla’s outburst and mess she created, out of good manners of course.

Scylla did not give a response, still staring after the spot where Raelle had stood just seconds before, if she listened closely she’d still be able to hear her footsteps striking against the marble floors as she walked towards the stairs, following their footman.

“Her hair as well, quite untidy.” Byron pressed on, waiting to see what Scylla’s reaction would be. The brunette whipped her head towards Byron, the vulnerable shock from before replaced with a defensive scowl.

“I think the concern for her sister outweighs the need for proper social presentation.” Scylla’s voice was sharp, laced with a threat to dare again insult the woman who, regrettably had been on Scylla’s might quite frequently as of late. 

“Oh yes, shocking to have a bad cold, I myself dislike being excessively ill.” Byron mused against his cup of tea, hiding his smirk at Scylla’s reaction with the cup. 

Raelle raced her way up the stairs, finding a room slightly open, inside laid Tally on a bed, arms thrown above her head and tissues lining the floors and acting as decorations on the stark white bed sheets. 

The blonde took a breath before reaching over, sitting on top of the sheets and running a hand through the redhead’s hair, laughing at Tally’s surprised and more than ecstatic expression upon seeing her sister. 

“Rae! You didn’t have to come all this way!” She protested, but Raelle shushed her, giving a hug and a gentle kiss to her forehead. “They’re being so kind to me, and I feel such a-”

“Oh please, I wouldn’t know who is more pleased at you being here, Iza or Mr. Gerit.” Raelle laughed, trying to humor Tally’s worries away. They would only have cause to keep her more ill with it’s negativity.

As if on cue, Gerit entered the room, brightly smiling at seeing Raelle, and his smile only widened at the sight of Tally, as if he was worried she’d somehow get up and leave.

“Thank you for all you’ve done, she seems in better comfort here than I believe she would be at home.” Raelle commented, Gerit blushed at the compliment, ears going hot as she glanced over at Tally before finding his words. 

“It's a pleasure, not, not that she’s ill, but pleasure that she’s here, regardless of the ailment.” Gerit stumbled over his words, Raelle gave a polite smile as he took his leave, turning to give Tally a knowing look.

The two gave each other a conspiratory glance as Raelle grabbed Tally’s stationary, ready to write a letter to their mothers so they’d know the state of Tally, as well as the state of her potential relationship and standing with the young bachelor. 

Back in Circe Izadora smiled wide as she reread the letter handed to her by their maid. Finding a pride filled her chest after seeing Tally was being taken to well at the Madea manor. With haste she ran to find her wife, smile only widening at the sight of her woman in a looser t-shirt, sleeves carelessly rolled to her elbows. 

Anacostia stopped after sensing the presence of her wife, glancing up with a smile as the woman greeted her filled with excitement.

“He’s head over heels already for her.” Izadora smirked.

“Oh don’t torment me.” Anacostia groaned.

“Come now, it’s wonderful, he doesn’t even mind a bit that she hasn’t a penny!” Izadora exclaimed, in walked Abigail, Glory at her side, dressed in one of their best street attire, no doubt due to the regiment expected to arrive and march through town in perhaps only half an hour from now.

“Of course he doesn’t mind, he has enough for the two of them.” Abigail remarked and Glory giggled. 

With that they each grabbed Anacostia and Izadora, ready to take them into town to watch the soldiers enter through. 

The street was filled, children running and girls and boys alike smiling with glee at the uniforms passing through, strong arms carrying rifles and muskets, swords attached tightly to hips, boots shiny and faces clean-shaven. 

Abigail and Glory smiled like predators, and as a man came into her view, with medium curls and a face that held pride and sense of duty she dropped her handkerchief, finding disappointment when the soldier didn’t pick it up. 

Glory’s mouth flung open as a soldier stepped on it, and then the rest of the soldiers in the column proceeded to step on her declaration of eligibility. Though Abigail was determined to not go down without a fight, she’d find one that’d would find a fancy with her, and she’d make sure of it.

Back in Madea Raelle wandered around the halls, finding herself in front of two large doors slightly open. She gently pushed it, walking through the threshold with wide eyes as she took in the scenery. 

The Library of Madea was a sight to behold, an expanse of books on numerous shelves ran throughout the room, four small tables in the center. Raelle gaped at the beauty before she caught sight of a brunette in browns and a silky red came into view. 

Before Raelle could sour and turn to leave, perhaps to come back another time and get lost in the shelves, Scylla caught sight of her, and almost ran into the desk, she held a stack of four or five books in hand, and looked like a teenager caught doing something they shouldn’t.

“Miss Collar.” Scylla found her voice, bowing slightly before fixing her stack of books on the desk closest to her. “I see you’ve found my hiding place.” It was spoken like a secret, and Raelle felt a shiver at the realization that this was the first time they were together in the same room, alone. 

“Yes, I, well I wanted to look at the shelves, although I find myself already overwhelmed.” Raelle admitted, reaching a hand to scratch the back of her neck, all too aware of Scylla’s piercing gaze.

“You read?” Scylla asked, and then with a shake of her head and a curse, realizing her mistake she quickly sought to smooth over her words. “Forgive me, I remember at the ball, you mentioned poetry, there are plenty of selections here if that’s what you fancy.” 

Raelle stared at her curiously, before giving a nod of her head, a gentle smile gracing her face as she took in Scylla’s awkwardness. It was endearing in a weird sort of way.

“My mothers love poems, I find my taste revolved around fiction, I read to escape.” Scylla snorted and Raelle tilted her head, unsure that Scylla was even capable of making any sound resembling a laugh.

“I suppose you also dream of some dark handsome stranger that will whisk you away from the countryside, perhaps a pirate?” It was weird to see Scylla in a playful light, yet a warning of her gut told her that perhaps it wasn’t as playful as she was hoping it to be.

“Ms. Ramshorn it appears in my short time in your acquaintance that you have a knack for wounding me and what little pride I have.” Scylla’s grin dropped from her face, a paleness covering her skin, and for a split second Raelle found herself worrying that perhaps the woman had caught Tally’s ailment. 

Scylla held her hands close, thumbs fumbling as she rose her shoulders and rolled them back, looking at the shelves to her right, before connecting with Raelle’s stormy blue eyes once more. Gods above did they hold the entire sky in them? She could feel herself floating away among the clouds of her iris. 

“I’d ask that you forgive me, I was-”

“Unaware that you’d been heard? Miss Ramshorn, please do not dishonor me by apologizing for something you truly meant. It is unbecoming of you, and tastes more like salt in a wound that I regrettably have yet to recover from.” Raelle could not stop the anger that made it’s way through her voice, feeling a slight bit of satisfaction at the way the woman looked down in remorse. 

“Is there anything I can do to, display my sincereness in apology?” 

Raelle had not expected that. She’d expected Scylla making a plain apology in regards to expected social customs, for good favour of course, but she had found herself surprised at Scylla’s insistence on good faith. For the deed was done, she made her apology and did enough that would salvage her reputation with anyone else, but upon Raelle not accepting? To contine to push? That was evidence enough of sincerity, but Raelle would not let the arrogant woman win that easily.

“Well, if it is true that you spend the majority of your time in this room, perhaps you’ll find the answer in one of your books.” Raelle turned to leave, halting abruptly at Scylla’s desperate cry to wait. 

Raelle turned slowly, watching as Scylla all but ran to a shelf, her finger preciously touching just under her bottom lip in deep concentration as she scanned the shelves, brows knit in concentration. A slight upward twitch of her lip occurring just as she found the book she was searching for.

She walked towards Raelle, and old and worn book in hand, it’s leather faded, and pages rather delicate. Scylla stared at the cover for a moment, hands rubbing it softly before holding it out to Raelle. 

Scylla opened her mouth, trying to find her words but ultimately closing it and swallowing, looking at the book still in her hand, before urging it forwards once more, a breath of relief sounding as Raelle’s hands cautiously reached to hold it, head cocked when Scylla’s hands did not remove from it.

“While I find I prefer poetry, I was raised on non-fiction works to further my education. This tome.” Her voice took on a mischievous air, as though she was sharing a secret with Raelle that she hadn’t shared with anyone else. “ It’s cover inconspicuous enough held many a comforts for me, when I could sneak a few chapters during my studies. I believe you might find some enjoyment in it.” 

Raelle nodded her acceptance, taking the book from her hand, returning her arms to her sides, giving a quick bow to Scylla as she took her leave.

“For your sake of my opinion Ms. Ramshorn, let us both hope I find the same enjoyment in it.” 


	6. Are You Too Proud, Ms. Ramshorn?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Would you consider it a fault? or a Virtue?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it! 
> 
> Here's a drink to the beginning of the holiday season!

Madea had an interesting air about it. With Tally still regaining her strength, and Raelle being allotted to stay by her side until she was well enough to return, she found herself immersed in the home, becoming apart of their days. 

Byron seemed to enjoy her company, and Gerit was just glad to have Tally there, despite her ailments, it seemed he’d interrogate her for every bit of information he could get about Tally, her likes, dislikes, favorite flower. Thankfully Byron had taken accustomed to the role of saving her.

She’d been invited to spend the day in their company, and currently they were spending it in the drawing room. Raelle had the book from the day before open, she’d made significant progress in it, quite enraptured by the tale of a pirate rescuing a woman from the shambles of her everyday life, sneaking her along for trips across the seas. She decided on continuing to read it in the drawing room as the group delved into light conversation overwatching Scylla’s business dealings, Raelle would make herself comfortable on the couch to read. 

Byron and Gerit had been discussing something that Raelle didn’t care too much to pay attention too, in fact she was having a troubling time herself to pay attention to anything than Scylla’s shirt, sleeves down to her hands, passing just slightly, it seemed the shirt was too big for her. Not that Raelle minded of course, she just was caught off guard with the casualness of presentation, not expecting anything regarding the word ‘relaxed’ about the woman.

Finally bored of conversation Byron stood, and the scratch of Scylla’s quill faltered, catching Raelle’s attention once again, looking through the corner of her eye as Scylla set the quill down gently, grabbing the sleeves of her white shirt and shoving them up her arms before small hands carefully wrapped around the quill to begin writing again.

“You write uncommonly fast Ms. Ramshorn.” Byron noted, a sigh could be heard, but Scylla continued writing.

“You are mistaken. I write rather slowly.” 

Byron stayed put, continuing to watch Scylla. Raelle noticed the way her shoulders seemed to tense, her foot beginning to tap a small beat from her chair. 

“How many letters you must have occasion to write, Ms. Ramshorn, letters of business too. Too repulsive I would think of them.” Gerit commented, and a small huff, of a laugh? Sounded from Scylla.

“It is fortunate then, that they fall to my lot instead of yours.” Her voice held a humour in it, but still kept its guarded neutrality.

“Please tell your sister I long to see her.” Byron spoke, with practically a beg, his hand finding her shoulder. 

Scylla shrugged the hand off, looking up and to the left at him, his teasing smile plastered to his face. Scylla wore a scowl, all too aware of the presence of a blonde in the room that had her desperately trying to remain indiffent towards.

“I have already told her once, by your desire.” Scylla could feel blue eyes on her form, and she covered the shiver that occurred with a cough. 

“I do dote on her, it's amazing how young ladies have the patience to be so accomplished.” Gerit spoke up, a smile on his face while thinking of the younger Ms. Ramshorn. 

“What do you mean Gerit?” Byron asked, sitting down with his arms spread against the back of the couch, careful not to bother Raelle’s positon. 

Gerit, with the attention on him let out a shaky laugh, his smile growing even more on his face. Creator be damned he was like a golden retriever in human form. His smile seeming to never weaken and only continuously grow.

“Well they all paint tables, own businesses, play the piano. I never heard of a young lady, but people say she is accomplished.” 

Satisfied with the definition Raelle and Byron both remained quiet, except the scratching of a quill to paper stopped as Scylla looked over her shoulder at Gerit. A careful thought on her face. 

“The word is indeed applied to liberally. I cannot boast of knowing more than half a dozen women, in all my acquaintance, that are truly accomplished.” 

Raelle’s eyes widened, and without being able to stop herself, something she was beginning to find more and more common when in proximity to Scylla she finally spoke. Ready to challenge the brunette in any way she could, rifle the woman’s pride and scorn, and wipe the scowl away from her face with maybe one of defeat.

“Goodness, you must comprehend a great deal in the idea.” 

Scylla turned her body all the way getting a look at Raelle. For a brief moment it felt as though the two were the only ones in the room. Raelle gulped as she took in Scylla, after having stared at her back for probably the past thirty minutes, getting a full view of the woman was a site she’d wait much longer to be able to see.

The moody brunette had messy hair, caused by her constant running a hand through it as she wrote, a bit of ink was stained to her lower cheek eyes narrowed in such a way that had Raelle only wanting to move closer and closer, close enough to be able to-

“I do.” Scylla’s voice was like a whisper just for Raelle. It’s tone holding something in it that Raelle would spend the next night or so turning over in her head, thinning of all the implications that could be had at the way those two simple words sounded leaving Scylla’s soft lips.

“Oh absolutely. She must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages to deserve the word.” Byron spoke, breaking the forming tension in the room, and just like that the world seemed to return to them both, Scylla looked down at the quill gripped hard in her hands. 

“Do not forget Byron that she must also have something in her air and manner of walking.” Gerit jumped on, a laugh tumbling from his throat.

“And of course she must improve her mind by extensive reading.” Scylla made sure to look pointedly at the book in Raelle’s hands a subtle mischievous glint in her eyes at noticing it to be the same one from before, and with remarkable progress in the tale, she flinched slightly at the sharp sound of the book slamming shut as Raelle set it aside. 

“I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing any.” Raelle challenged, Scylla quirked a brow.

“Are you so severe on our own sex?” 

“I never saw such a woman. She would certainly be a fearsome thing to behold.” They hold eye contact for a moment longer, and finally Scylla nods, conceding to the battle before returning to her letters. 

Gerit, oblivious to the tension sunk back into the couch, and Byron all but bathing in it hid his smile before standing up once more, holding out his arm for Raelle to grasp onto. 

“Miss Collar, let us take a turn about the room.” With surprise Raelle stands, linking her arms with Byron as he guides her about. 

“It’s refreshing, is it not, after sitting so long in one attitude?” Byron remarked, and Raelle smirked as they came into sight of Scylla, still scratching in excellent penmanship.

“And it’s a small kind of accomplishment, I suppose.” Raelle let her voice ring loud enough for Scylla to hear, the brunette immediately looking up at Raelle, meeting her eyes briefly as the gears in her head turned, trying to understand what was unfolding in front of her.

Byron, noticing of course Scylla’s reaction, all too giddy at the atmosphere he created, drew his full attention to Scylla, keeping Raelle snug in his arm. 

“Ms. Ramshorn, will you join us?” Byron’s voice was that of a tease only Scylla would be able to understand.

“You can only have two motives, Byron, and I would interfere with either.” Scylla mused, shaking her head and crossing a ‘t’ with her quill.

Byron faked surprise, looking at Raelle with faux-shock.

“What can she ever mean?” Byron asked, voice a higher octave.

“Our surest way of disappointing her will be to ask nothing about it.” Raelle spat, but Byron shook his head with his own disapproval. 

“Yes, but that would be no fun. Please tell us Scylla.” 

Scylla sat back in her chair. And curse the heavens above it was unfair how, appealing, she looked relaxed against the chair. Back cracking slightly as she pushed up the fallen sleeves once again, hand slightly scratching at her lip before habitually running through her hair, stirring the strands while at the same time, unknowingly stirring the warmth in Raelle’s lower belly. 

“Either you are in each other’s confidence and have secret affairs to discuss. Or you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage by walking, taking full advantage of my attraction to both the male and female physique.” Scylla began, ignoring Byron’s conspiratorial look at Raelle. 

“If the first, I should get in your way. If the second, I can admire you much better from here.” A smirk almost made its course to Scylla’s face, wiping away a moment too soon before Raelle could see it appear on her. 

“Oh, how shall we punish her for such a speech?” Byron spoke with an obnoxious and overly exaggerated gasp. 

“We could always laugh at her.” Raelle cocked her head, catching the almost deathly look that seemed to cross in Scylla’s eyes. 

“Oh no. Ms Ramshorn is not to be teased!” Gerit yelled from the back of the room, Raelle broke away from Byron’s arm, walking close to Scylla’s desk, forcing the woman to look up at her, the grip of her quill only steadily growing in her hand.

Scylla found her mouth opening slightly as Raelle stood as close as she could to the woman, a fire building in blue eyes, one that both of the women decidedly shared in that moment as they stared each other down. Jaw’s strained with their clench.

“Are you too proud Ms. Ramshorn? And would you consider pride a fault or a virtue?” Raelle ticked her head to the side, and Scylla narrowed her eyes.

“That I couldn’t say.”

“Because we’re doing our best to find a fault in you.” 

Scylla sat up straighter, leaning forward, as Raelle leaned down towards her in turn. Fiery eyes only doused by the natural blues that held their raging seas to a calm.

“Maybe, it’s that I find it hard to forgive the follies and vices of others, or their offences against myself. My good opinion, once lost, Ms. Collar, is lost forever.” Scylla’s chest was pounding, and Raelle’s likewise. 

“Well then.” Raelle let out with a shaky breath. “I cannot tease you about that. What a shame, for I dearly love to laugh.” Raelle smiled sweetly at Scylla, before she walked away, giving a slight nod of her head. 

Scylla found her breath as the familiar steps of a blonde woman finally ceased to be heard from far enough away. She looked down into her hands, cursing at the broken quill that left stains on her palm. Byron would most certainly never let her hear the end of it.


	7. An Excellent Way to Meet New Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> !!!WAIT!!! BEFORE YOU READ, THIS IS A DOUBLE UPDATE!!!  
> As promised, a double update for Thanksgiving! So make sure you read 6 before this one!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You read 6? Great, amazing, sit down, drink some water and lets get into it shall we?

Once again, just like four mornings before, Scylla and Byron sat eating their breakfast, Gerit joining them this time as Raelle and Tally slept in, or rather Raelle more than likely was pretending to sleep in, Scylla wasn’t quite sure if the blonde and her had smoothed things over.

She’d seen the woman reading the book she all but practically threw at her, noticed a smile on her face, gracing soft lips, that had the prettiest shade of pink to them that Scylla could only imagine leaving gentle-

“A Mrs. Quartermaine-L’amara, A Miss. Moffet, and a Miss. Bellweather.” The footman announced, grabbing Scylla’s attention away from her thoughts. Byron let out a laugh, recognizing the surnames as the family walked into the room. 

Eventually Raelle finds her way down to the drawing room again, Scylla hides her frown upon noticing she doesn’t have the book with her, afraid that perhaps she didn’t like it after all, she’d have to go back and check the library for it, see if she’d put it back.

Raelle sat across from her family, by herself as the three other women made their places on the other couch. Gerit, and Byron stood, encasing Scylla who was eagerly attending to her desk, finding left over business matters about the happenings of her property, labour-in-pain, to deal with, all while discreetly listening to the conversation unfolding behind her. 

Not that it was very lively conversation, it mainly was composed of the Mrs. commenting on the obvious display of wealth, not that she cared for such trivial matters to be discussed, finding it rather distasteful in the way the woman seemed to conduct herself when discussing rank and wealth. Scylla began to wonder if that was all the woman could ever think of?

“Such expensive furnishings! I do hope you intend to stay here Mr. Gerit!” Izadora spoke, and Gerit perked up, ready to answer like a puppy doing tricks for a reward.

“Uh, Absolutely, I find the country very diverting. Don’t you agree, Scylla?” Quite quickly realizing there was no way she wouldn’t be included in this conversation Scylla moved so she could face the guests, giving a very short smile to Gerit before her usual scowl returned to her face. 

“I find it perfectly adequate, even if society is only a little less varied than in town.” She did not care to waste her opinion, rather satisfied with keeping quiet and the small talk to move on so she might get some much needed quiet. 

And it was quiet that Scylla needed, for she found that with her body turned towards the guests she couldn’t keep her eyes off of the blonde, watching her almost like she was hunting the woman. Scylla could practically feel the ghost of a hunting rifle in her hands, fingers cautiously hovering over the trigger, catching each movement, the tiny little flick of her tongue as she wet her lips and- 

“He’s a very agreeable man! A good deal less self-important than some people of half his rank.” Scylla and Raelle both cringed, and Raelle’s eyes flickered over to Scylla’s. 

An apologetic look rang in her eyes but Scylla knew if she stared a moment longer she’d be lost, and so she tilted her chin away, masking her face in an air of pride, wearing it like armor, turning it just in time to watch Ms. Moffet speak up.

“Is it true Mr. Gerit that you promised to hold a ball here at Madea?” Her voice was hopeful, and both blonde and brunette turned to look at Gerit’s answer. 

Byron held a deliciously hopeful smile, he loved partaking in the social gathering, getting wasted and dancing the night away, learning all the latest gossip and then dragging Scylla into a few dances to spill all that he learned to her, as well as make her seem less of a bore. 

It was then that Scylla realized Raelle held the same look of disdain in her eyes at the mention of a ball, and she couldn’t help the pang of hurt that stabbed her chest at realizing perhaps she was the reason Miss Raelle wouldn’t be excited at the prospect of dancing a night away. She did sour the mood of the last one, and knowing that if Madea had a ball both her and the blonde would be almost required for attendance she’d more than likely ruin a night of what should be fun for the woman. 

Scylla’s scowl deepened.

“It would be an excellent way to meet new friends!” Glory continued, and it was then that Abigail perked up.

“You could invite the militia. They are rather excellent company.” Scylla watched as Raelle gave a glare to Abigail, the woman only giving a smile in response and quirk of her head in Scylla’s direction. Scylla darted her eyes back to Gerit quickly, hoping that her obvious observance wouldn’t be noticed.

“When your sister has recovered you shall name the day!” Gerit beamed, and both Abigail, Glory, and Izadora returned his wide warm smile. 

“A Ball is quite a perfectly irrational way to gain a new acquaintance I wonder.” Raelle spoke up, and Scylla found her eyes staring at her once again, eyes roaming the braids knotted into her hair. 

“Yes, it would be better if conversation instead of dancing were the order of the day.” Scylla found herself agreeing, and blue stormy skies met her raging seas, a look of almost, perhaps, understanding? Passing through them both.

“Indeed, much more ration, but rather less like a ball, and honestly quite the bore.” Byron laughed, a hand coming up to roughly hit Scylla’s back. She glared at him in a calm look that only he would be able to read before Gerit led the party to Tally’s bed where they would find her recovered. 

Scylla made her escape to the library, all but running towards the shelves to find the book, perhaps it would be left on a table? But when she looked at the desks they were all clear. Perhaps the space where she grabbed the book from would be filled? But when she went to the shelf it was still empty. 

She furrowed her brows turning to head back towards the exit when the blonde in question, was standing, watching Scylla, book in hand. Scylla’s mouth fell slightly open on it’s own, the thought of how long the woman had been standing there jumping into her head before quickly leaving, the sound of Raelle’s voice only filling her ears and leaving her captivated. 

“I’m afraid I didn’t finish it.” 

A step closer.

“A shame, though I’ve always found the ending quite unsatisfying.” 

Another step closer. 

“Yes, well I was going to return it.” Scylla soon felt the book in her hands, she didn’t even remember moving her own arms. 

In a panic, quite like the last time when Raelle had turned to leave her Scylla cried out wait once more, and just like last time the woman stopped in her tracks, turning to look at the brunette. 

Heart steadying itself at seeing Raelle waiting for her to continue, a curious brow raised Scylla walked closer to her, staring into the pools of Raelle’s eyes, finding a smirk reaching her own face with a delicate mischievousness that resulted in both of Raelle’s eyebrows raising.

“There is to be a ball here. You can return the book then, perhaps a few days time will be quite enough for you to finish, and if you may find enjoyment in it, we could discuss the ending like true scholars.” Raelle let out a laugh, and Scylla’s face fell, unsure of if she was being teased or not.

“Well, Ms. Scylla.” Raelle began and Scylla had to find a way to continue breathing at hearing her first name rolled off the tongue by the woman in front of her, spoken in a tone that would be befitting of perhaps friends, maybe well standing acquaintances. Whatever tone it was, it was nice to hear a less punctual, and harshness not aimed at her. 

“I’m not sure what is so scholarly about a woman scooped up from the countryside to be thrust into adventures of a pirate, but I do believe if there is anyone who could find tell me it would be you.” Raelle took the book from her hand, giving a slight nod before taking her leave. 

Scylla found herself smiling as she watched the woman’s back retreat from her. Her bad impression had been saved it appears, and perhaps she might find a friend in the woman, maybe not in the way she would in Byron or Gerit, but wouldn’t say she was too upset at the idea of the ball occurring knowing someone with good conversation and well enough manners would perhaps entertain her.

Raelle stood outside the carriage, watching Tally and Gerit interact, both with bashful smiles on their faces, both stammering over their words as he handed her into the horse drawn wagon. 

She looked over at Scylla, both bowing quickly, book safely snug in Raelle’s arm. 

“Ms. Ramshorn.” 

“Ms. Collar.” 

Raelle moved to step up, ready to reach her hand for Gerit to take until she felt smaller, softer, hands only calloused by the grip of a quill and perhaps an average amount of carrying heavy objects. They were tender, short and they felt strong, they were a multitude of many things, and it stirred many things within Raelle as she felt them against her own. 

She looked, following the dark sleeve of the arm, no doubt hiding freckles that scarcely graced the backhand, all the way up towards Scylla. Unable to keep her blush from showing 

Raelle turned to sit, watching Scylla’s retreating form, her hand flexing as the feel of Raelle’s hand in her own stayed with her. It felt perfect, it was perfect, the way their hands met, the way Scylla couldn’t stop thinking of the woman, the way she felt instantly warmer, grounded, the touch being so inviting, Raelle being so inviting. 

Creators above take mercy on her, for the simple touch told them both enough that they were truly not ready to face yet. 

Finally back in Circe Izadora watched as Anacostia gave her a look of warning, letter with the seal broken in her hand. 

“I hope we’ve ordered a good dinner today, because there is good reason for us to expect an addition to our family party.” Her voice held a groan and annoyance to it, followed by a rap at their door. 

With their servant opening it, a man with dirty blonde curly hair, blue pale eyes, all dressed in an uncomfortable black garb entered the home. Looking quite prideful and smug in ways that reminded Raelle of Scylla, but in all the wrongs ways. The man gave a deep bow as Anacostia and Izadora approached, their girls silently watching from a distance. 

“Mr. Porter Tippet, at your service.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We knew this was coming. 
> 
> Don't look at me like that. 
> 
> HeyHey! I mean it!!! 
> 
> you know what fine, keep looking at me like that, hope you enjoyed the last bit of fluff for awhile...


End file.
